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Tristan pressed his lips to a tight line as if not wanting to push the words out. “A royal ball where I must find a wife.”
A sickening feeling twisted in the pit of Aurora’s stomach as the reality of their different worlds sank in. Still, the thought of Tristan with another woman stirred a pang of dread within her, yet she swallowed her feelings, masking them as best she could.
Her voice softened as she found her words. “Thank you for your assistance with my hand,” she said, averting her gaze to the flames dancing in front of them.
“I—” Tristan’s words were cut off by the distant sound of a bell tower echoing through the air, its mournful toll reverberating within Aurora’s chest.
Time was slipping away, and Tristan had his own path to follow. Their eyes locked for a lingering moment, both reluctant to part ways.
Finally, Tristan stood. “I hope you find what you’re seeking inside that tower,” he said in a gentle voice. “Goodbye, Aurora.”
As he walked out the door, a hollow emptiness settled within Aurora’s heart, leaving her feeling more alone than ever before.
TRISTAN
The ballroom had been utterly transformed by scores of Tristan’s servants and maids. Soft organza in colors of blue and gold swept along the walls, reminding Tristan of the sea meeting the setting sun.
Brilliant bouquets of white lilies and marigolds adorned the long banquet tables. And the food was in abundance. There were more glazed rolls and fine meats than could possibly feed the guests.
Tristan found Wendy in the crowd and nodded to the food. “Have the servants hand out the leftovers to the people in the nearby villages once the ball is over.”
Wendy’s eyes shined back at him before she gave a nod of understanding. Then she disappeared in a sea of swishing ball gowns.
Ryke appeared at Tristan’s side, dressed in his finest garment. His neatly-trimmed beard along with his regal attire made him appear nothing like the pirate that he had become. To any onlooker, they were two princes, standing side by side.
The thought gave way to the stark realization that this moment was fleeting, and soon, his cousin would be leaving him alone in the cold castle.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” Ryke asked, pulling Tristan out of his head. He followed Ryke’s gaze to Lexa standing beside the musicians. Her long, black hair fell over one shoulder and sparkled like the night sky in the candlelight.
When she began to sing, everyone stopped musing and turned to watch, enchanted by her melodic voice.
“Indeed,” Tristan affirmed. “Lexa is looking lovely as ever. But I think I should be looking at the other ladies in the room, not your wife.”
Ryke shoved Tristan playfully, then rose a champagne flute to his lips. “Does anyone catch your fancy?” he said, his eyes sweeping around the room.
Tristan scanned the sea of faces. Many rosy-cheeked women swayed, their fine gowns flowing like flowers in the wind. The motion reminded Tristan of the way the forest plants seemed to sway in the Dreamworld. The fragrant flowers flooded his nostrils in delight. He mentally shook himself and tried to focus on the task at hand.
He was not to think of the Dreamworld. He lived in the real world. With an incredibly important duty to fulfill. He had to be present and do justice to his future wife.
His gaze landed on a woman with long, golden hair pinned to the back of her head. Her locks fell in a mass like a pony’s tail, and it curled at the very bottom. The woman had her back to him, and she stood tensely. Tristan ventured through the crowd, eager to reach her. But when he touched her elbow and she spun around, a pair of dull blue eyes blinked at him. His heart sank.
Of course, it wasn’t Aurora. He could not understand why even a small part of him wondered if it was.Hopedit was.
He forced a smile. “May I have this dance?” he asked, holding out his hand with a bow.
“Why, of course, Your Royal Highness.” The woman curtsied. “I shall be most honored to accompany you.”
The two danced stiffly and out of sync. It took all of Tristan’s resolve not to stumble on the woman’s toes, and her imposing orange gown almost had him trip on more than one occasion.
“How do you find the ball, my lady? Does the music please you?” he asked, trying to break the awkward silence between them.
The woman shrugged and made a strange sound that reminded Tristan of a mouse. “The music is fine enough, but the drinks are less to be desired. The first thing I shall do when I am queen is send whoever is in charge of the wine to the gallows.”
Tristan stiffened, bringing their dance to a halt. For a moment, he stood frozen, unsure of what to do next.
“Something wrong, Your Highness?” she said the words as though they took great effort.
Tristan let her hands drop and stepped away. “Thank you for the lovely dance,” he said, tilting his head ever so slightly.
